


Not the Only One

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Series: Destiel/ Cockles Shorts [18]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Misha, Dom/sub, Impala Sex, M/M, Nipple Licking, POV Misha, Rough Sex, Teasing, Top Jensen Ackles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 01:19:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4687013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The set is empty, the impala is just sitting there ... Misha has some ideas of how he and Jensen can make use of these circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Only One

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a response to an ask on Tumblr asking for some "sexy Cockles", so sexy Cockles you get!

           “How have we worked here for so many years and never done this before?”

           “Because we’re two six foot tall dudes and this sucks!”

           Misha wriggles around to Jensen’s left side, squeezing between him and the seat back, which promptly pushes the man onto the floor of the impala.

           “ _God damnit, Mish!_ Now I’m stuck!” Jensen yelps, twisting around on the black matted floor.

           Misha rolls his eyes and pulls on Jensen’s arm, finally tugging his broad chest free from where it’s pinned between the backseat and the center console.

           The green eyed man groans as he rubs his sore ribs, aptly choosing not to look Misha’s way. “Why are you so insistent on doing this?”

           Misha shrugs a little before sitting back up on one end of the bench seat, letting Jensen finally crawl back onto the other. “ _Because_ … the episode is called “Baby”, and everyone keeps making those jokes about what goes on back here… _and,_ it got me thinking.”

           “Thinking that we should break our bodies in half just to fit in here?”

           “ _Maybe_ … I am pretty flexible."

           Jensen huffs and reaches for the door handle. “ _You_ might be, but I’m sure as hell not. Out. _Now_.”

           “You are exactly _zero_ fun, Jensen!” Misha hisses as his friend starts to step out of the car.

           “ _Don’t care_.”

           With a sigh, Misha opens his side too—all the fantasies he had, slipping out of the cracked door. He was going to lay Jensen down in the back of the impala, let the cool leather slide along his bare skin. He was going to run his hands all over the guy, kissing along every freckle, even tickling him a little bit—to get his blood flowing and smile on his face. Then he was going to slowly move down, pretending for his _own_ enjoyment, that they were both in character … that the rest of the cast and crew were around them, peeking in through steamed windows. Not really because Misha wants all his friends to watch him get it on with anyone, but at least in the privacy of his own mind, having all those eyes on him seems _really, really_ exciting. And as his mind would wander, so would his fingers— _south_ until they found all the spots that made Jensen groan and gasp, and use _even less_ words than usual. He wanted to do it all in that backseat that really _has_ become like another home to him. But mostly, he wanted Jensen to at least try it … as in, _shut up_ for two seconds and not complain about something new and risky; but that was apparently a lot to ask from his grumpy, _acts-older-than-he-really-is_ co-star. With a final sigh, Misha sets a foot outside the car, pushing himself up to stand atop the dense concrete of the lot outside the main stage. It’s dark and chilly, and no one is around thanks to the long weekend and the break in filming. It was the perfect time to try this; and even though he knows that when they make back to his trailer it’ll still be good, it won’t as good as it could’ve been.

           A little yelp escapes his lips as his shirt is suddenly tugged and he’s whipped around to the front of the car—Jensen nipping at his neck hungrily. Misha tries to breathe and collect himself enough to ask what’s happening, but then a strong hand shoots beneath the waistband of his jeans, gripping him firmly. Each expert stroke over his cock makes it harder, until Misha is finally straining against his zipper and thrusting absent-mindedly into Jensen’s side.

           “Is this good enough, Mish?” Jensen grunts, licking up the angular jaw until he finds his way back to Misha’s lips.

           He tries to talk around the kiss, ask Jensen what has gotten into him, but before he can, he feel’s the man’s arm wrap around his waist, lifting him up and back until he’s sitting on the hood of the impala. The new position causes Jensen’s busied hand and lips to fall away—and Misha can’t help but whine. “Not anymore!”

           The beautiful man in front of him smiles and shakes his head—the creases turning wicked as he peels off his own shirt. “ _Now you_.”

           Misha quickly follows suit, stripping his top half bare and then waiting eagerly for more instructions.

           “ _Pants_.”

           With a nod, Misha is wriggling and jumping along the cool metal, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down—quickly kicking them free so he’s just in his briefs atop the car.

           Jensen grins. “Better.”

           “For _you_ , maybe. I’m still seeing _far too much_ denim” Misha chides, licking his lips as he watches Jensen move back a few paces, a cocky little swagger to his gate—ensuring that those blue eyes have a full view. The man undresses far more slowly than Misha did, obviously not in the same rush—but the slow striptease is certainly a sight to behold. Finally, Jensen and himself are matching, only thin, tented fabric keeping them from filling this lot with deep grunts and moans.

           With a slow, calculated step, Jensen moves in closer, his face stern, but a mischief in his eyes that makes Misha impossibly hard. Then the man licks his lips, “I thought …” _another step,_ “that maybe …” _one more_ “I could take you …” he slides in between Misha’s knees, hands gliding up those thick thighs and dancing circles against his waist “right here on the hood.”

           Misha shutters out a breath, shocked and excited, and a little confused all at once. “You’re not worried about denting it?” He grins—the grin soon falling as he realizes that he is seemingly trying to talk Jensen out of this— _the hottest_ thing the man has ever proposed. Misha mentally kicks himself.

           “This ain’t the hero car” Jensen mutters, leaning back in to bite Misha’s lip.

           With a laugh, Misha slides back some more— _figuring_ that Jensen wouldn’t have brought them to his prized piece of machinery when Misha had first suggested the idea of _using_ it. He’s just surprised that he didn’t notice it before … but then again, it’s hard to notice anything when you have thoughts of _naked Jensen on leather_ rolling around in your head. “Well _good_. We can go crazy then.”

           “Not too crazy” Jensen warns, just before bending at the knees and dropping down to Misha’s waist.

           “We’ll see …” Misha moans, tossing his head back as Jensen mouths the tip of his cock through the cotton. He really doesn’t know what’s gotten into his friend, but he _loves it._ Loving it more as warm fingers curl into the band of his briefs.

           “ _Up_ ” Jensen commands, instructing Misha to lift his hips so he can remove the last bit of clothing.

           Misha obeys instantly, feeling the damp fabric slip along his skin “ _So_ … you said you’re going to _take me_. That’s new” Misha chuckles after Jensen balls up his underwear and tosses it off to the side. “ _You’re_ usually the one being _taken._ ”

           Jensen turns back, licking his lips and giving him a wink—probably thinking about their last time, when Misha bent him over the side of that couch in his hotel suite and railed him until the man tore a hole in the cushion by gripping it so hard … _that was a fun convention_. “You wanted to change things up, remember?” he finally says with a smile

           Misha nods—he _did_ say that. Given … he was talking about their location, something more exciting than the beds in their trailers or hotel room floors, but—he’s never shied away from surprises, especially pleasant ones like this.

           With a grin Jensen raises his hand to Misha’s mouth, tracing his bottom lip with two fingers. “ _Suck_ ” he grunts, cheeks flushing with his own excitement. Misha watches as the man’s tongue hovers just behind his teeth—it makes him shiver all over.

           After a deep breath, he does as he’s told, taking Jensen’s fingers into his mouth and sucking them hard—moving his head back and forth while his tongue laps over the man’s knuckles. Misha watches as Jensen’s eyes close—and he shakes a little, probably thinking how he could have his friend’s talented mouth doing _other_ things to _other_ parts of his body, but instead, he keeps his fingers where they are. That is, until Misha is practically drooling out of the side of his mouth with how furiously he’s going at it. With a little tug, Jensen frees himself, dropping his dripping hand down between the guy’s legs, shoving him back with his dry hand until Misha is laying flat on the hood.

           “Ready?” Jensen asks, but the word is so rough, that Misha thinks the question is probably rhetorical.

           He nods anyway.

           Soon, a finger tip is pressing into him—his own saliva giving it easy passage for it to slip beyond the muscle. Misha arcs on top of the metal, reaching out for something to grasp, but finding nothing but more cool, flat black. “ _Fuck!_ ” he cries out, feeling sweat start to build on his skin, instantly making it stick to the hood of the car.

           “Not yet” Jensen grunts, just before sliding in his second finger to open Misha up.

           It’s probably too quick, and he knows he’s going to be sore in the morning, but he really can’t bring himself to care. All Misha sees above him is the night sky and the familiar tops of the stages, and the silver outline of the impala’s windshield just at the right of his vision. He can all but _see_ the people around him, watching with wide eyes as Jensen works him over. The imaginary thrill feels too real and Misha is soon leaking all over his own stomach. Then Jensen’s pressing even deeper, and Misha’s vision bursts white—a deep, guttural cry quickly echoes across the concrete.

           The sound causes Jensen to rumble somewhere below him, but Misha is still twitching too hard to lift his head and look. Soon, the fingers leave his body and then he feels a grip on his hips, tugging him down, making his skin squeak along the black paint. “ _Come ‘ere_ ” Jensen moans, sounding nearly as wrecked as Misha.

           With some exhausted effort, Misha shuffles lower, until his ass is nearly hanging off the edge of the hood—but Jensen’s hands are still there, holding him up and holding him steady—one letting go to push down his own briefs and position himself at Misha’s entrance. The blunt pressure against his hole makes Misha grip wildly at the rim of the car—his entire body tensing and going rigid.

           “ _Relax_ ” Jensen hums, and Misha finally wills it within him to look down, finding nothing but cool green and pinked skin when he does. It’s comforting and familiar, and soon—every muscle in his body turns soft with the sight. Another push is all it takes and Jensen is pressing inside him, _tight_ and _rough_ and _hot_ —just how Misha likes it. It’s not too often that he bottoms … Jensen usually likes to take on that role, but when he does—there is something so primal and raw about the friction and the burn, and Misha feels like he’s being turned inside out. _It’s amazing._

           “Jesus … Jen, _more!_ ” he breathes, knuckles turning white as he clutches the edge of the car.

           Jensen gives a tiny thrust, pushing in until he’s almost where Misha wants him to be—almost at that sweet spot that will have him waddling for days with a smile on his face. But then the man stops—an evil grin cracking his cheeks as Misha’s head shoots up to eye him.

           “Keep going!” he groans, wondering _why on earth_ the guy would stop _now_ —since the twitch in his legs and his heaving chest proves he’s just as close as Misha is.

           “I’m gonna make you beg for it” he whispers—eyes sparking with malice.

           Misha audibly whimpers, feeling too turned on to stifle himself. “When did you turn so evil?” he mutters, scooting back and forth, inching up and down Jensen’s cock, trying to urge the guy to move.

           “When I met _you_ ” Jensen laughs, letting his fingers trace soft lines up Misha’s thigh and then along to his pulsing shaft.

           The touch is too light but it hints just enough to _more_ —to what he _could_ have and what he knows is there. Misha drops his head back on the hood with a _thud_. “ _Jen_ …” he whines, knowing that this is probably payback for all the times he’s made his friend writhe and cry with his every whim. “ _Please?_ ”

           “Not good enough.” Jensen whistles, pulling out again— _painfully slow_ while also tracing circles around the slippery head of Misha’s cock.

           “Damnit, Jensen … _please!_ ”

           “Please _what_?” The man’s voice is filled with humor now and Misha has to shut his eyes and clench his fists just to keep from cussing him out.

           But before he can collect his thoughts, heat is covering him as Jensen leans over his body, giving his nipple a quick lick while still barely touching his tip. Misha practically seizes on the hood, mouth bouncing on sobs like a dying fish. “Please, just _fuck me_ already!” he finally cries, so loud, it echoes off the walls around them.

           “ _Jeez_ , Mish … _quiet down_. I don’t know what you’re yelling about.”

           Misha lifts his head again, lips already curled into a snarl as he’s about to tell Jensen off, but then the man rails into him once more, finally shoving in all the way and hitting that sweet spot dead on. Misha gasps and grinds his spine on the metal, fists pounding along the smooth surface so hard, he’s sure he’s leaving dents. Jensen pulls back and thrusts in again, picking up the pace after another one of Misha’s moans fills the night air. Soon, all that can be heard in the empty lot is the slap of skin and swear-filled breaths.

           “Shit! Jensen … _yes_ , fuck yes” Misha blurts, not even sure of what’s coming out of his mouth, but knowing that it doesn’t really matter in the end—Jensen feels _too good_ and is filling him up too well.

           “You close, Mish?” Jensen asks, and the bottoming man knows that that means his friend isn’t going to last much longer.

           He swallows hard, about to tell the guy to hold on, but can’t because Jensen’s hand finds its way back to his cock, soon stroking it in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. “Yes … _fuck_ , I’m close!” he says instead, feeling his entire body burn with Jensen’s rough handle on him; and _god damn_ , does it feel good.

           In another moment, Misha stretches a little more as Jensen expands through his insides—his movements shuttering slightly as he starts to release. “ _Mish_ ” the man breathes, and that is all it takes for Misha to follow right behind, drowning in all the sensations of his friend surrounding him and tearing him apart—he spills out over Jensen’s hand and his own stomach, letting one last shout escape his lips.

           “ _Holy_ … _fucking_ … _fuck_ …” Misha wheezes, eyes blown wide as he tries to peek through the flashes that are now blurring his vision. “Fuck!”

           “That good, _huh?_ ” Jensen laughs breathlessly, pulling himself free with a little whimper.

           Misha winces, noticing the burn and sting with the sliding skin, but too blissed out to mind. “Yeah, _it really was._ What the fuck got into you?”

           He feels Jensen’s hands slide up his sides, rubbing softly over his hips just before he bends down to kiss his belly button—causing an uncontrollable giggle to burst from Misha’s throat … he quickly reaches down to shove the man’s face away, but he’s still too shaky and weak to really be effective, so Jensen does it again. “Well …” Jensen says, grinning against Misha’s stomach as the man squirms beneath him. “You’re not the only one who has fantasies involving this car.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at: [Castiel-Left-His-Mark-On-Me](http://castiel-left-his-mark-on-me.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Check out the rest of my Ao3 for more Cockles/ Destiel smut, angst and fluff!


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